


Raw Honey

by ozomin



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Barbero is a sad boy who deserves love, M/M, One Night Stand, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:05:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8158282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozomin/pseuds/ozomin
Summary: Barbero exists in the spaces between rust steeped bar light fixtures and eyes that reflect river smooth stones beneath a rushing current.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello Barbero deserved love  
> Enjoy!

At the end of every two weeks or so, Barbero gets, perhaps not moody, but more fragile. Nero can see it in the way he relays news, less enthusiasm than usual, his eyes sort of wander around the room before he leaves it, like he wants to escape a peculiarly secure prison cell.

Nero chooses not to encroach on his business, Barbero's a grown man with his own problems and if he needs Nero, he'll make it known.

Won't he?

Barbero exists in the spaces between rust steeped bar light fixtures and eyes that reflect river smooth stones beneath a rushing current.

Their names begin to blur together after the forth month.

Four months of jumping from bed to bed to satiate a hunger he's not entirely sure he wants to feel. Barbero's simply worn out, full resignation run down to the dirt in his head like a dull worthless rock finally unburied beneath loose soil.

These men serve to cover it all up again. With mouths and cocks like shovels that bury everything unnecessary back under layers of dirt and denial. Bury Barbero alive in a coffin stuffed full of sheets that smell of musk and stale alcohol.

Barbero waits at the street corner, they're meant to meet here after leaving the bar separately, ten minutes between them.

He seems nice, a nest of soft brown hair and broad shoulders, if Barbero closes his eyes it could be Nero's body.

He sweet talks Barbero through a weak whiskey mist, he's just drunk enough to convince Barbero that he could use a night off.

Barbero had spit the alcohol out after the first sip, the woes of having a more refined palette, adjusted his glasses and agreed.

It's not too bad, it's pleasurable even. For the first few minutes while Barbero lets his tongue explore his mouth, and taste his skin, Barbero doesn't think of Nero. He thinks of the soft touch of lips to his throat and the hand palming his dick through his pants and for once feels blissfully blank.

That moment is only too short.

The man does not call or murmur Barbero's name, only groans as Barbero begins to stroke his cock in reciprocation.

They kiss messily and without affection, only a clipping of lips and teeth when the man gets too eager.

Barbero eventually lies back and lets this man strip him from the waist down.

His skin is sensitive to the cool air that swarms the little apartment, there's no heat on, probably no heat at all. Barbero inhales as the man swallows him down. Lips stretching around the width of his cock, slick and warm.

Barbero pulls off his glasses, they're fogging up anyway. The man looks up at him with eyes that echo black ink spilt across paper. The hunger in his expression is unmistakable.

Sometimes Barbero likes to believe that maybe Nero would experience some sort of jealousy at the news of him sleeping with other men. That Nero would crave to hold Barbero down, would crave to fuck him the way these men do.

It's those thoughts that relax Barbero, he brushes back a wisp of thin blond hair out of his face and settles down further into the mattress.

The man's hands are big, his grip tight on Barbero's thighs.

Large and gently calloused.

Like Nero's.

Barbero sighs long and deep, curves it into a groan as fingers enter him.

Maybe Nero would enjoy this. Maybe Nero would enjoy seeing the precome dribble down his fingers, feel the heat and sweat on Barbero's skin like water across sun baked asphalt.

Barbero bares his throat and hopes those thoughts dissolve into nothing. He closes his eyes and lets this man enter him.

He sinks in with heavy cock and heavier body.

It burns.

Barbero wants to recoil.

But he doesnt.

Neither of them do. Not the man when he notices Barbero's pinched expression but elects to ignore it and not Barbero because maybe if he can handle being torn in two then rejection from Nero won't be so bad.

He's lulled into a trance as the thrusts even out, rhythmic and steady. It's enough to build the climax in his gut.

If he closes his eyes, it's Nero above him, grunting and gasping, lighting up the air like a flame to alcohol.

If he closes his eyes Nero's the one tasting his skin, licking the sweat off him like he's some elaborately made meal.

If he closes his eyes maybe Nero can see him, take him apart with his eyes, separate skin from sinew from bile. Maybe Nero could draw out the warmth behind Barbero's eyelids, use it to heat through his empty cold bed.

Barbero comes mouthing Nero's name into the crook of his elbow. His bed mate fortunately doesn't notice, because he keeps rolling his own hips, searching for his own release.

It only takes a minute, but like all the other times, dread begins to fill Barbero's stomach, the same time the man chooses to fill Barbero. He feels out of place, this man writhing above him is not Nero, he's not anyone. No one important at least.

He feels used and guilty for using in return.

Barbero allows the man to pull away from him and slip into the bathroom to piss.

Barbero promises to be gone before he comes out.

With still aching hips, Barbero pulls on his pants, stuffs his underwear into his pocket and begins locating his shoes.

He can clean up when he gets back home. Hopefully Nero won't notice the damp line of come dripping down his leg.

Barbero pushes his glasses back on and leaves without a thank you or a mention of a next time. He says nothing.

The same way he'll spare Nero.


End file.
